


Glisten

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, MFMM Smutuary, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-31 08:26:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17845880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Phryne and Jack are staying at a hotel on the Mediterranean, and they find themselves in need of a nap. Or something.





	Glisten

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, Smutuary should totally be a thing, every year. Talk about a fun way to spend the month! Thanks to Allison_Wonderland for setting this up!

Phryne watched Jack stride out of the waves, both arms raised to push his hair back from his face. The position highlighted the lean muscles of his arms, and his black swimsuit showed off his broad shoulders, lean waist, and thighs. The sun glinting off the Mediterranean lit the water on his tanned skin, the curves of his biceps glistening as if they were carved from gold. He really was a muse worthy of any artist. Idly, she wondered whether she could find someone to paint his portrait, preferably from a moment like this, to be hung in her boudoir. Or perhaps a more private moment, with even less clothing to obscure the fine lines of his body. He might need some persuading, but she was certain that the end result would be worth the work. She smiled faintly, setting that thought aside for another time.

As he started across the sand toward her, she watched his muscles shift; she could feel her body loosening at the sight of him and she crossed her legs, needing the pressure between her thighs. How was it that just his presence could evoke memories of the weight of his body over hers, his hardness inside her? They had indulged in so much lovemaking during this trip, you’d think she’d have had her fill of him, but no—she wanted him as much now that she knew the patient, generous lover he was as she had when that aspect of him was a neverending source of mystery. 

She was absolutely certain that Jack had no awareness of just how many of the women on this crowded stretch of beach watched him as he arrowed toward her across the sand. He moved gracefully, his attention fixed on her; Phryne felt the jealous brushes of the other women’s eyes, and she played to them, tilting her round sunglasses down to see him more clearly. In the bright sun, he was even more beautiful, and she loved the way that his lips tilted in a smirk that said he knew what she was thinking.

Smiling, she sat up from where she’d been reclining on a lounge chair, then lifted his towel and held it to her chest. When he stepped under the enormous umbrella that shaded her, he held out a hand. She raised one eyebrow, her eyes skimming his body, and shook her head. He pursed his lips, as if to keep from smiling, and tilted his head in admonishment. Her grin became salacious, the tip of her tongue coming out to touch her upper lip.

Without warning, Jack leaned forward and shook his head, sending bright diamonds of water flying toward her. Phryne squealed as the cold water hit her skin.

“Jack Robinson!”

His laughter was contagious, and when he stood to push his hair back again, his face was lit with humor. 

“Serves you right.”

Feigning a pout, she handed over the towel, inwardly pleased at his playfulness. She wrapped her arms around her knees and watched him dry off, riveted as always by his physicality. The wet suit he wore delineated the muscles of his chest, and as he stretched this way and that, she felt the pulse of arousal grow more insistent between her thighs.

With a sigh, Jack sat in the recliner beside hers, closing his eyes as he let the sun beat down upon him. Phryne laid back, pushing her sunglasses up her nose, and turned to look at him.

“Do you want to move into the shade? There’s plenty of room here beside me.” She let her voice drop and patted the empty few inches by her hip. 

Jack opened his eyes and turned to look at her, amusement in his eyes at her blatant ploy.

“Feeling lonely, Miss Fisher?” He trailed his eyes down her body, and Phryne shifted, feeling his gaze like a stroking hand. Her nipples tightened in response, and she saw his eyes linger on them where they pressed against her swimsuit.

“Not exactly, Jack,” she purred, putting a hard click at the end of his name in a way she knew he would understand. “But I am feeling just a little tired. I might go back to the room and lie down.” She tipped her sunglasses down again, meeting his laughing eyes over the top of the frames. “Care to join me?”

Jack rolled to lie on his side, facing her, and Phryne mimicked the motion.

“Are you suggesting,” he said slowly, his voice low and wicked, “that we abandon the sun and the beach and go shut ourselves inside… alone… with nothing to do…” he reached out to run a finger from her shoulder down to her wrist, “but entertain each other?”

Phryne’s breath quickened. His voice rumbled in his chest, a low wave that seemed to act on her body like an earthquake on sand, shivering sensation along her skin and adding pressure to her already building desire. The finger on her arm was innocent enough, and yet its soft pressure brought to mind other, less innocent touches.

“I’m quite certain that we could come up with some very,” her eyes flicked down his body to rest on his groin, “interesting,” they traveled up again, “ways to pass the time.” Reaching out a hand, she traced the neckline of his swimsuit, drawing her fingertip along the warm, damp skin of his chest. 

—= ❤ =—

Jack’s nostrils flared as he read the intent in Phryne’s eyes. It was still, even after all this time, miraculous to him that they’d come together this way. He’d loved her for what felt like forever, but even after he’d decided to make his romantic overture, he’d never anticipated anything like what they’d become.

She loved him. To some, what they had might seem to be grounded only in the flesh—but, as glorious as that flesh was, if that had been all there was between them, he wouldn’t have gambled with his job and his future by traveling halfway around the world to wallow in it. The heat between them was based on far more than just desire. They enjoyed each other’s minds as much as they enjoyed each other’s bodies, and that was something he’d never thought he’d find.

“I do believe I’m feeling a little tired myself,” he said, lifting a hand to where her fingers were leaving trails of heat along his skin. Threading his fingers through hers, he sat up, reaching for his towel. “Perhaps just a short lie-down before dinner?”

Phryne sat up as well, tossing her book and her sandals into her big beach bag with her free hand and settling her wide-brimmed hat on her head. 

“That does sound refreshing, darling,” she said, her voice trembling with laughter—or something more. 

Jack held out his elbow and Phryne squeezed his hand, her fingers stroking his palm as she pulled away to take it. As they walked up the beach toward their hotel, he wondered whether his face showed just how aware he was of Phryne’s hand against his bare arm. When she began stroking his skin with her thumb, he felt it like a touch on a far more intimate part of his body, and he clenched his jaw in the hope of keeping his composure.

They made their way through the beach doors of the hotel and toward the elevator lobby in silence; Jack’s mind was absorbed in the way his body had become attuned to hers. He hoped the towel he’d draped over his wrist was hiding the worst of the erection his lover’s suggestions had inspired. It’d be a shame if he embarrassed himself. A smile tugged at his lips, and he looked down at Phryne. She didn’t get embarrassed, as far as he knew. She took plenty of things seriously—her ward’s future, her friends, her family—but she never let that weigh her down. Her determined refusal to apologize for her own happiness was one of her most enchanting qualities, particularly because she paired it with a kindness that ran all the way down to her core.

Some days, it felt ridiculous to love her this much, but he could not regret it. He wasn’t sure just how he’d come to be this mush of a man when it came to her; he hadn’t been a romantic since before the war—that change had been part of why his marriage had run aground—but she made him starry-eyed again. He saw her flaws, of course, but they only made it worse. She was pig-headed and brilliant, selfish and giving, everything that he’d ever wanted and more.

“Jack,” Phryne said quietly, pressing closer, her breast warm against his arm, “you’re thinking too loud. We are on a mission, remember?”

“Sorry,” he replied, flexing his arm to squeeze her hand against his side, “but I’m trying to distract myself just enough to get upstairs.”

She glanced up at him, her smile wicked. “Trying not to think about what I’m going to do to you?”

“Precisely.”

“But Jack,” she purred, her fingernails tracing patterns against his bicep, “all I can think of is how you’ll taste of salt and sea when I wrap my mouth around—”

Jack stumbled a little, the image springing to life in his mind. “Phryne, please,” he whispered. “Just a little farther, and you can taste whatever you like.”

Her soft chuckle seemed to caress his skin, and Jack swallowed hard. Not long now. He caught the eye of the elevator operator, who reached to hold the door for them. Ushering Phryne in, Jack tucked himself behind her, nodding his thanks to the young man on the panel and echoing Phryne’s greeting to the other couple in the small space.

“Oh! You’ve just come from the beach!” The female half of the other couple clapped her hands delightedly. “Is the ocean water as refreshing as it looks? We arrived late last night, and we’ve been shopping all morning.” Her companion smiled wryly as he lifted the half-dozen shopping bags he carried in demonstration. “It’s so hot—Eddie and I were just thinking of going out to swim!”

“The water is lovely,” Phryne responded. “I didn’t swim, but Jack did, and it appeared to be quite invigorating.” Jack did his best not to groan as Phryne leaned back against him, her bottom soft against his groin.

“And was it?” The woman asked, her big brown eyes lifting to meet Jack’s, innocence gleaming out of them. 

“Very much so,” Jack managed. “Warm and inviting.”

“Third floor,” the elevator operator announced, just as Jack heard Phryne muffle a snort.

“This is us, darling,” the young man said, gesturing with an arm laden with shopping bags. 

“Oh, of course!” She flashed a bright smile. “It was lovely talking to you—perhaps we’ll see you later.” 

“We’ll look forward to it,” Phryne said smoothly, even as her hand flattened on Jack’s bare thigh.

With a small wave, the younger woman left the elevator, her companion trailing behind her, and the operator cranked the door closed.

“What floor, madam, sir?” He asked politely, looking up to the mirror angled above his head that allowed him meet their eyes without turning around.

“Six, please,” Phryne said with a smile. When the man looked away, she smoothly rocked her hips against Jack, her fingers tucking under the edge of his swimming costume.

Jack set his hands on her hips, trying to keep her still, lest he disgrace himself. It was funny how, after years of having to be careful in the public eye lest his behavior reflect badly on the Victorian Police, he had forgotten what it felt like to be truly anonymous. As far as anyone here knew, they were a wealthy married couple on holiday who were absolutely smitten with each other. 

Most of that was even true.

With a smile, Jack buried his nose in her hair, breathing deep of the scent of her perfume combined with the lingering heat of the sun. She stilled when he pressed a kiss to her temple, her wandering hand pausing, soft and warm against his skin.

“Not long now, love,” he breathed beside her ear, his eyes on the elevator operator, who appeared to be either oblivious or studiously ignoring them. Either way worked for him.

Phryne let out a soft huff that eloquently expressed her irritation with having to wait, but her hand stopped its upward journey beneath the hem of his swimming costume. He kissed her temple again, his hands flexing on her hips in a silent apology for the delay. She relaxed against him, her weight settling against his chest, and he squeezed again, grateful for her trust—and her restraint.

“Sixth floor,” the operator said as the elevator drew to a stop. 

Phryne straightened, her steps jaunty as she proceeded past the man, a light “thank you!” trilling from her lips. Jack followed her more carefully, raising an eyebrow when the other man dragged his eyes away from the sway of Phryne’s hips. He suppressed his grin at the man’s blush; he understood the impulse—she was beautiful, she knew it, and she loved to be noticed for it—but it wouldn’t do to seem to condone it. He was supposed to be her husband, after all.

By the time he reached the door to their suite, she had already pushed inside, leaving it open. He followed her in, carefully closing and locking the door. It wasn’t difficult to track her, since she left a trail—her beach bag set against the wall, her hat laid carelessly over the back of a chair, her sandals lying askew. Loosing the grin that he’d hidden from the elevator operator, his heart thudding with anticipation and the steady thrum of arousal, Jack dropped his towel and began to unfasten his still-damp swimsuit, his feet silent as he crossed the cool tile floor of their sitting room.

—= ❤ =—

Phryne quickly shed her swimsuit as she stood in the beam of sunlight that came through their bedroom window, her back to the door of the sitting room, conscious of the heat of the sun on her skin. She’d wished more than once that they had a private beach where they could be together, naked, in the light. This would have to do.

Her ears let her know when Jack arrived; he caught his breath, and she smiled and turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her own breath faltered. He’d stripped off his suit as well, and he stood there in nothing but his skin, his hands limp at his sides as his eyes devoured her. She stroked her eyes over the planes of his chiseled chest, following the trail of dark hair that began between his nipples and trailed down his flat belly to the base of his erect cock. A glint of moisture at his tip let her know that he wanted her, and she felt her sex respond.

“Phryne.” Her name was an incantation, uttered in a reverent tone.

“Come join me in the sunlight, Jack,” she said, wanting him close.

He didn’t argue, and he didn’t hesitate—he moved up behind her, his mouth dipping to meet hers and his hands coming up to rest on her shoulders. The heat from his skin was palpable even before he touched her, and Phryne lifted a hand to grasp the back of his neck, her other reaching to rest on his hip as he pressed the hard length of his cock against her buttocks.

Jack slid his palms over her shoulder blades, tucking them beneath her arms to wind around to her chest. His hands were large, but she marveled once again at how perfectly the hollows of his palms fit the curves of her breasts. The heat of him combined with the heat of the sun, and she went up in flames.

Gasping against his mouth, she turned in his arms, pressing against his chest as her tongue slipped and slid over his. He stroked his palms down her back to cup her bottom, and she lifted one leg to swing it over his hip, opening herself up to him.

With a groan, he lifted her; she hooked her ankles together behind him as he centered his sex on hers. Her arms tightened around his neck and she curled her hips against him, wanting more friction between them. Jack took a staggering step toward the bed, and Phryne wrenched her mouth away to stop him.

“Here, Jack,” she moaned. “In the light.”

Jack opened bleary eyes to look at her, then past her at the shaft of sunlight that illuminated the lovely Oriental carpet they stood upon. With a nod, he took her mouth again even as he knelt to lay her back against it, his weight—familiar and welcome—settling over her. He propped one forearm beside her shoulder, his hips curling against hers as his cock rode the seam of her sex, his free hand roaming her skin.

Lifting his head, he looked down to watch his hand on her breast as he gently squeezed; wordlessly, he bent his head to take her nipple into his mouth and Phryne arched against him. The pressure of his cock bumping against her clit with each movement of his hips made her breath seize in her chest, and her legs, still locked around him, squeezed his sides with the slide of his tongue against her nipple.

“Please, Jack,” she gasped, her hands stroking his hair, his neck, his shoulders, “I want… I… please!”

Jack met her eyes as he slid his hand back to tug at her thigh; when she’d released him to plant her feet on the floor, he stroked down to the space between their bodies and guided himself to her entrance. Once he’d notched his head inside her, he centered himself on his elbows above her and began to push. 

Phryne held his eyes as he moved, loving the way he filled her so perfectly; she stroked her hands down his back, the stretch of her muscles around him as he pressed inside an exquisite torture. He moved slowly, drawing out the pleasure of joining for as long as he could, and Phryne curled her hands into the long muscles on either side of his spine. His intent gaze never left hers as he buried himself in her to the hilt, his groin pressing warmly against hers.

“I wanted this on the beach,” she murmured, her thighs hugging his sides. “You, inside me, the sun on our backs.”

“The lack of sand here is a plus, though,” he replied, leaning in to brush his lips over hers as he held himself still.

“True,” she said with a soft laugh. Raising one hand, she stroked it through his still-damp hair, scraping her fingernails gently along his scalp. He practically purred, his eyelids falling in a long, slow blink as he pushed his hips against hers. Phryne gasped at the sensation and he did it again, a smug knowledge in his eyes. 

He leaned in to take her mouth in a deep, searching kiss as he pressed inside her again, a little faster this time. With a groan, Phryne kissed him back, her hips curling to meet him in a rhythm they’d been perfecting as they practiced their way across Europe. 

—= ❤ =—

Jack tightened the muscles of his abdomen, doing his very best to keep his slow and steady progress in and out of her body. He reveled in the way she felt, hot, wet silk against his cock, the moisture of her body coating her thighs and his as he loved her with everything he was, body and soul. He raised himself up on his elbows, wanting to see her face, and he wasn’t disappointed. 

The afternoon sun made her skin glow, the bold sapphire and garnet pattern of the rug on which they lay providing an intense contrast to the pale alabaster of her body. Her black hair was mussed around a face flushed with arousal, her eyes heavy-lidded and her mouth—lipstick gone, it was pink and glistening from his kisses—slightly open. His heart thudded in his chest in time to the thrusts of his hips, her name echoing along in his head, _Phryne, Phryne, Phryne_. 

“Jack,” his love panted, her hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders.

“Yes, love,” he replied, his lips stretching in a smile.

“Just ‘Jack’,” she said—and, grinning, pushed him.

A laugh burst from Jack’s chest as she shoved him backward, following him over to settle astride him, her knees tucked close to his sides. Jack’s arms flailed a little before landing on her hips.

“Not going fast enough for you, love?” He stroked his thumbs over the crease where her hips and thighs met, loving the velvety texture of her skin.

“Mmm,” she responded, pressing her chest against his as she kissed him, her tongue demanding. When she released him, he couldn’t find any words, and she grinned again as she pushed herself up, her palms pressing his nipples and her hips beginning to move.

Jack’s hands on her hips tightened as Phryne threw herself into the motions of plunge and retreat. He watched her face, her white teeth gripping her bottom lip and her head falling back, her long neck arching as she worked over him. Blinking, he trailed his gaze down her body. Her skin was bathed in light, the pale rose of her nipples little more than a shadow against her breasts, the dark thatch of hair that covered her sex a shocking contrast. Her thigh muscles flexed as she rose and fell on him; his cock, its length glistening with her moisture, appeared and disappeared into the heat between her legs.

“Phryne,” her name sounded strangled, his throat was so tight with control. “God, Phryne.”

“Touch me, Jack,” she gasped, her hands moving to his thighs and her back arching. 

Obligingly, he slid a hand to her waist and then up and over her breast, the tan of his skin stark against hers. Her other breast bobbed with the movement of her hips and he wondered whether he had the strength to sit up and take it between his lips. Putting the thought aside for a moment, he stroked his other hand to the apex of her legs, his fingers sliding in the moisture of her body as he searched with knowing fingers for her pleasure center.

His breath laboring in his lungs, Jack focused on holding his orgasm back until he helped Phryne reach hers. She whimpered when the pad of his index finger found the right spot, and he rubbed gently, putting pressure in the places she liked. 

Licking his lips, he watched her breast bounce, imagined the pebbled skin around her nipple against his tongue and the taste of her—perfume and sweat and woman—in his mouth. He loved the way she tasted, had made a point to sample every inch of her, and his mouth watered. Nostrils flaring, he tightened his stomach muscles, pulling himself up as she continued to pump her hips against his. He kept his eyes on the prize, that pale, soft flesh with its pretty pink tip calling to him.

—= ❤ =—

Phryne’s eyes had closed as she chased her pleasure. She could feel the sun—not as intense as it had been on the beach—skating along her skin as the hard length of Jack’s cock slid along her sensitive tissues and his fingers worked their magic between her legs and against her breast. 

He’d spoiled her in the time they’d been lovers. In the past, just the pleasure of touch, the slide of skin against skin, had been enough—some of her lovers had managed to bring her to release, but many had not, and that had been all right. Although not every rendezvous had ended in fireworks—there’d been a reason why Ronaldo the Rodeo Rider had been so very memorable, and it hadn’t been his job description—she was capable of finding her own release.

But Jack did his best to bring her to orgasm every time, and she’d begun to expect it. He _liked_ to make her come, often with his mouth or his fingers, and she was happy to oblige him in whichever method he chose. Today, though—today, she wanted something specific. She wanted to shudder and shake through her pleasure, her inner muscles clamping down on his cock to feel his body release beneath her, within her.

Opening her eyes, Phryne lifted her head just in time to see Jack’s open mouth close around her breast, his tongue sliding wetly around her nipple before his cheeks hollowed with the power of his suction. She cried out—the visual and tactile stimulus connecting in her brain and rocketing through her. She was so close…

Lifting one hand, she fisted her fingers in his hair and curled over to press her lips to the crown of his head. 

“Jack, please, with me, please,” she murmured against his hair. The damp strands clung to her lips, and she licked them, taking in the tang of salt and the remembered sweetness that was Jack’s mouth.

“Mmm,” he said, and she felt the vibration from her nipple to the place where his flesh speared into hers.

“Jack!” she cried, her hips accelerating, her other hand flying to hold onto the smooth skin of his shoulder, and she curled her fingers into claws, her short nails digging into his skin. “Now, Jack, now!”

The last word was a wail as her climax rushed over her, her body shaking and her muscles jumping. 

“Now!” she repeated on a breath against his ear, and she had her reward. Jack came with a groan that reverberated deep in his chest; she could feel it against her skin everywhere they touched, in the clasp of his hand on her breast and the pressure of his fingers on her clit, in the heat of his release and the pull of her spasming muscles milking every last drop from him.

“Phryne,” he gasped, releasing her breast, his mouth open against its curve, “I love you. So much. So much.”

The words set off another release, smaller this time, but no less intense, and she wound her arms around him, her cheek resting against his as she shook.

“Jack, my Jack.” Her lips brushed his earlobe as she whispered the words back to him, the ache of release deepening her voice. “I love you.”

Jack’s arms slid around her, one hand spreading between her shoulder blades and the other crossing over to curl around the shape of her ribs. He rested his forehead against her sternum, lips brushing against her in a scattering of small, soft kisses; bending his knees, he rocked against her and she held him close, feeling the sun’s heat as a benediction. She slid her hands down his back, her arms stretching luxuriously; he shivered at the scrape of her nails, his breath warm gusts on her skin. She smiled, enjoying the slight scratch of his evening beard against her cheek and the weight of his cock as it softened within her.

“Clearly,” he rumbled against her breast, “the beach agrees with us.”

Phryne laughed softly, pulling back a little so that she could look down into his twinkling eyes. Lifting a hand to his cheek, she ran her thumb over his lips, brushing the decadent line of his top lip and pressing softly against the bottom one.

“It does,” she agreed, “though we’ve proven that mountains and cities also tend to be… inspirational.”

“We are adaptable, Miss Fisher,” he replied, his tone caressing. “We can make just about anything work for us, given the proper motivation.”

Phryne’s smile stretched her face, and she tilted her head to consider the meaning behind his words. 

“Well, thank goodness for that,” she said, and kissed him.


End file.
